


a week in

by efrondeur



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, Fluff, M/M, Matt is eternally tired, Oblivious Matt, Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Roommates, Shiro finds a baby in a dumpster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9685430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/efrondeur/pseuds/efrondeur
Summary: Shiro finds a baby in a dumpster the night before a week-long snowstorm. He takes him back to his and Matt's apartment, where the two have to take care of the baby during the storm.





	1. dumpster

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream about this a few days ago and couldn't get it out of my head until I wrote it.
> 
> This is probably going to be about 7-8 chapters long, with each chapter being a new day during the st

Shiro rounds the corner, walking into the alleyway.

He has a general rule against walking in any alleys, as most do, despite being a pretty tall, intimidating guy, but it’s late and he just wants to get  _ home. _ He’s worked all day, gotten yelled at by his boss for somehow being “too kind” to a customer, and had to deal with being yelled at by a frantic mother when he took a bit too long ringing things up - which, he understands, being a mom is stressful, but  _ damn. _

Plus it’s cold as balls out.

He’s taken this alley a handful of times before when he’s been stuck in the same situation. It’s not as bad as most. There are a couple lights on from the back doors of the stores and apartment buildings, offering just enough to let him see into every corner, assuring him that he’s safe. The only parts he can’t see are the other sides of the few dumpsters lining the sides, but he makes sure to walk as far from those as he can.

He sees his breath as he walks, can feel his nose start to freeze, exposed to the frigid air. He cups his gloved hands around his nose and mouth, blowing hot air into them, keeping them warm.

God, he can’t even imagine how shitty it’s going to be during the storm. The weathermen said it’s supposed to last a solid week with enough snow falling to keep just about everything except for the hospitals closed. Although, this is what he gets for going to school in Northern Minnesota.

Normally he loves weather like this: he doesn’t have to shovel, his university cancels classes, and all is well in the world. But this one is going to be a doozy. They expect power to be knocked out, all shipments to halt, all schools have closed down for the week. It’s going to be a ghost town.

He and Matt had gone shopping just about every day last week stocking up food, clothes, blankets, and heaters. Thankfully they were able to grab the last few battery powered ones as well as an electric one, and they made sure to grab enough batteries to last them for a few weeks if need be. No matter what, it was still going to be colder than all hell once the power goes out. If only they could afford a generator, granted then they’d still have to deal with the rule against them in their apartment, but there’s no way the landlord would give warnings for people just trying to survive. Well, he is kind of a dick, so maybe he would.

The last day they went shopping, about two days ago, the store was pretty much picked clean. The workers said they’ll get more shipments the next day, but the two had already gotten just about everything they needed, save for some shampoo and soap. Which was honestly some of the weirdest things they’ve ever run out of and been barely able to find, but it is what it is.

His work almost tried to schedule him to work the day after the storm. Normally he’s happy to come in when they need him - okay maybe not  _ happy _ \- but he turned them down immediately. There is no way he would risk going out right after that, with the sidewalks barely paved, and likely a car crash on every street. 

Although he did get ten percent off all of his purchases, which was at least super helpful. That was probably the one good thing about working at Target… Like, the only one.

But, he really needs to find a job closer to his and Matt’s apartment. He got his job at there, what? A year ago? He’s about due for a new one. Plus there’ll probably be openings closer to their apartment now. Well, hopefully. Doesn’t hurt to at least check.

A cry comes from somewhere in front of him. Shiro stops dead in his tracks. That sounded like… like a baby. 

What the hell is a baby doing outside right now? Can’t they die in this weather? 

Cautiously, Shiro starts to walk again. He focuses on his hearing, listening for any sound of rustling, indicating a mother or  _ something. _ He can’t tell whether he hopes he imagined it, or if he hopes to accidentally stumble upon someone carrying a baby and taking the garbage out or something of the sorts.

Another cry, but this time it continues. Instead of a sharp sound, it’s a continuous wail. Immediately a spike of adrenaline rushes through Shiro. 

This is ominous as hell. This is how white people die in the movies, going to check on the creepy crying baby when everyone in the audience is yelling at them to turn and run.

A gust of dry, freezing wind sweeps through the alley, piercing straight through Shiro’s coat and khakis. It pushes him forward slightly as if urging him towards the sound. The sound of the cry tapers off slightly, carried away by the rushing wind. 

Yeah. This is definitely some kind of bad omen. He’s probably going to die. At least he won’t have to pay off his student loans, so that’s a plus…

Shiro takes a deep breath, readying himself for whatever monster lays ahead of him. He walks forward, following the sound of the cry.

As he gets closer, he realizes where the cry is coming from.

The dumpster dead ahead of him. Curiosity piqued - and adrenaline pumping - he draws nearer. Taking a deep breath, Shiro goes up onto his tiptoes, peering around the edge of the dumpster. 

It’s not a monster. Not at all. 

It’s a baby.

It’s surrounded by half-eaten, rotting food, pieces of cardboard, small scraps of rusting metal, a couple newspapers, and swaddled in a thin blanket.

Its face is smudged, covered in dirt and grime, probably from rolling around in the trash. Although could a swaddled baby even roll? Doesn’t matter. Its blanket has a couple rips in it, equally as dirty as the baby. 

Its eyes are closed, but its lashes are wet, lips swollen, face splotchy and red. Tear tracks are drying on its face, probably making the poor thing even colder in the already unforgiving weather of the night. The baby looks miserable.

Shiro’s heart reaches out. The poor thing’s head isn’t even covered. Where’s its mom? Dad? Family? Why would someone leave it lying here?

Not even thinking about it, Shiro reaches in, carefully grabbing the baby by its arms and lifting it up. The baby stops crying but lets out a whimper. He holds it close to his body, shifting it into one arm as he uses his other to unzip his coat. After a battle that shouldn’t have been as hard fought as it was, he gets his coat open. Immediately the air hits him, his work shirt barely keeping in any warmth. But he’s not what’s important right now, the baby is. 

He carefully maneuvers the baby to the inside of his coat, arm tucked under the baby’s butt and holding it close to him. He grabs the ends of his coat with his prosthetic hand, gently pulling it closed, swaddling the baby in it and holding it close to his chest.

The poor baby whimpers in his arms, but presses itself against him, stealing his warmth. He shifts his arm again, holding the baby closer. 

“Shh,” whispers Shiro, bending his head down to whisper into the baby’s ear. “It’ll all be okay. I’ll get you warm in just a minute, I promise.”

The baby makes a noise from inside his coat, but Shiro has no idea how to classify it. It’s almost like the baby understood him, happily responding to his promise. It… kinda warms his heart.

This is bad, isn’t it? He shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t his baby, this is someone’s child. Someone who might very well be looking for it right now. Oh, god.

Well, he’s already got it, and he can’t put it back in the  _ dumpster. _ He can’t leave it out somewhere else either, nor can he just hand it off to someone else to deal with.

No, until the storm passes and until he can safely find the baby’s parents, he has to take care of it, and he will be the best stand-in dad that he can be.

He starts heading back to his apartment, briskly walking, wanting to get there and get the baby warm as soon as he can. 

It doesn’t take long at least. He’s already past halfway home. In about five minutes, he’s back in his apartment building.

After careful deliberation, he decides to take the elevator up. He usually takes the stairs, giving him at least some form of workout on the days he didn’t have time to go to the gym, but he doesn’t want to jostle the baby. He waits for it, anxiety starting to bubble up.

What will Matt think? He kinda lives with Shiro, so he’ll probably end up having to help with taking care of it… Well, Matt’s gonna be pissed. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t leave it. That wasn’t an option. 

As the door to the elevator dings open, Shiro hopes beyond all hope that Matt decided to retire early. 

He taps his foot anxiously the entire way up the five floors. Since when did this elevator take so goddamn long to go up  _ five floors. _

He feels the baby starting to stir against him.

Oh no, no waking up now. No crying. Fuck. Okay. How exactly can he calm the baby?

Shiro carefully lets go of his jacket, pulling it off his chest, revealing the baby pressed against his chest. The baby sniffles, but its eyes remain closed.

Alright, good for now then. 

The elevator doors ding open again, display reading a red number five. Walking out, he hides the baby again, worried that his neighbors might come out of their apartments and see him with a baby he definitely didn’t have when he left.

Arriving at his door, Shiro takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever would await him on the other side of the door. He pulls his keys out of his pocket, placing them in the lock and turning it as silently as he could just in case Matt is asleep. 

The lock clicks. Removing his keys, Shiro turns the handle. He opens the door only slightly, peering into the apartment, eyes falling directly on the couch. Matt’s not there. Thank god.

Okay, so he’s probably asleep then. Opening the door the rest of the way, Shiro steps into the apartment, eyes darting into the kitchen making sure that Matt isn’t there either.

He’s not.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro closes the door behind him, toeing off his shoes at the mat a couple inches from the door. He walks over to Matt’s door, pressing his ear against it. A light snore sounds on the other side of it.

Thanking anything and everything that might be watching over him, Shiro high tails it into his room, closing the door behind him. He leans against it, giving himself a moment to catch his breath and gather his thoughts.

Okay. The baby is now in his apartment, safe and sound. It’s mostly asleep but still dirty as hell. It needs a change of clothes and definitely needs a bath. Then they both need to sleep. And eat at some point between then. Alright. This should be manageable.

Except that he can’t bathe the baby in the bathtub. Nor does he have any clothes for it. And he doesn’t have any baby formula either.

Well shit.

Shiro pulls the baby away from him, holding it at arm's length from him. It shuffles slightly but otherwise, does nothing. Biting his lip, Shiro tries to figure out what to do.

Could he wash the baby in the sink of the bathroom? No, the faucet is too low, he wouldn’t be able to wash its head. Plus it might hurt itself on it, so that’s out. He needs something that’s not very deep but can hold water and a baby… 

He can grab one of the old plastic bin that he brought his things in when he moved into the apartment! As long as he doesn’t fill it all the way, that’s probably the best he can do. 

Gently, he places the baby on the bed, making sure it won’t move while he goes and grabs the bin out of his closet. He brings it into the bathroom, placing it near the tub and turning the water on. He doesn’t start to fill it right away, wanting to warm the water first. 

Going back to his room and grabbing the baby, he heads back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The baby’s eyes blink open, roused by the sound of the water. The baby starts, shocked by its new surroundings. It opens its mouth, a whimper coming out.

But Shiro knows that whimper. It’s the sound right before full blown crying. It’s the sound that is the entire difference between him being able to care for this baby and Matt finding out and making him take it back. He sits on the ground instantly, unraveling the baby from the blanket and placing it on the floor in front of him. 

It blinks up at him, huge, deep blue eyes, focusing on his. Shiro slumps over, making his shoulders smaller and his height less apparent, and softens his face. He makes himself as non-threatening as possible. It seems to help. The baby doesn’t start crying immediately, but tears start to gather in its eyes.

“It’s okay,” coos Shiro. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanna help.”

He wipes at the baby’s cheek as a single tear falls.

“I promise. I’ll get you home soon, I just gotta give you a bath right now, okay? It’ll be so nice and warm.”

The baby makes a small noise, mouth opening slightly. It’s not a cry, at least, so Shiro considers it a win. He reaches over to the water coming out of the faucet of the tub. It was scalding. Yanking his hand away, Shiro cradles it against his chest.

This seems to worry the baby, making it shrink back slightly.

“No, no, no. It’s okay. I just need to turn it colder and it’ll be perfectly fine,” says Shiro, voice soft and gentle.

The baby just stares at him, lower lip trembling slightly, but still no noise. 

Shiro gives him a sympathetic smile, reaching back over to the tub, turning the water from ‘Hot’ to a happy medium. He puts his hand under the water again. It’s still a bit hot, probably too much for a baby, so he turns it down again. There. That feels perfect. He gets up onto his knees, placing the plastic tub under the water, filling it.

It only takes a couple minutes to get it at a level suitable for the baby, which Shiro is utterly thankful for. The baby keeps watching him, just staring. It’s really… unsettling. He knows the baby poses literally no threat to him, but it makes him self-conscious. 

He reaches over to the baby, lifting it into his lap.

It is almost unbelievable how hard it is to get the clothes off the baby. He pulls the shirt up to its chest, that much was easy. The hard part is getting it to give him its arms to pull them out of the sleeves. He has to fight the baby -  _ the baby _ \- for a solid two minutes before he’s finally able to slip the shirt off completely. Thankfully the pants are monumentally easier. 

He peels them off, revealing a diaper underneath. Oh right… baby’s use those… 

He’s going to have to run to the store again tomorrow before the storm hits.

He undoes the velcro to the diaper, revealing that it was… well used, to say the least. Wrinkling his nose, Shiro holds it by the very edge of the waistband, flinging it into the garbage. He picks the baby up and stands up. He grabs the butt wipes from the top of the toilet, pulling one out and carefully wiping the baby’s butt. There’s a smattering of red bumps on his butt, likely just a small rash, but Shiro decides to look it up tomorrow morning just to be sure.

It giggles in his arms, making Shiro crack a smile. That is the cutest laugh he has probably ever heard. So tiny and high pitched and somehow full of such joy, despite the reason behind it. 

Chuckling slightly, Shiro throws the soiled wipe away. Shifting his grip to hold the baby under his arms, Shiro holds him at arm’s length again, checking to make sure he didn’t miss any more poop. Ah, so the baby’s a boy. Well, he’s projected as a boy, only time will tell.

Sure that he’s poop-free, Shiro places the baby in the tub, water now only lukewarm, which is probably for the best.

The baby looks at the water weird. He’s not upset, he’s just… curious? Confused? Something of the sort. Has he never been washed before?

God, his heart is gonna break over this poor baby. How could he have not seen water before? There’s no way he could’ve been in the dumpster for that long right? Garbage clean up on this side of the city was every Tuesday and today’s Thursday. So at most, it would be about two days. Although, the baby was at the top of the heap…

Shiro shakes his head, clearing up his mind. He has a more important matter than feeling sympathetic.

Grabbing his own washcloth off of the towel rack, Shiro dips it into the bathwater, thoroughly wetting it. As he lifts it out of the water, he raises it above the baby, squeezing it. Water drips down out of it, onto the baby. Confused, he looks up, blue eyes wide and curious. Shiro smiles again. He can already feel his heart being stolen by those beautiful eyes. 

He repeats the motion a few more times, making sure the baby is wet enough to scrub down with some soap. Deciding he enjoys this, the baby starts laughing excitedly, splashing in the water. Shiro laughs as well but shushes him as he starts to grow louder, still worried about Matt noticing.

But the baby doesn’t listen. He takes the shushing as encouragement and starts splashing more, laughing louder. Quickly, Shiro pours some face soap onto the washcloth, hoping it’ll be gentle enough to use on the baby’s skin. He wipes the baby down, scrubbing softly as to not irritate his skin. He rubs in circles at the dirt marks on the baby’s face. The baby tries to take the washcloth into his mouth, making Shiro laugh, but have to make quicker work of washing him. 

This baby is just too cute. If Shiro wasn’t in college, he’d happily adopt him in a heartbeat, but he can’t. A thought that pulls at Shiro’s heart. He’s going to have to give this baby to someone, likely the moment the storm is finished blowing through. Maybe whoever it is will be nice, and let Shiro come see him. Hopefully.

Running the washcloth through the bathwater, he cleans it off and fills it with water yet again. He drips the water over the baby, washing all the soap and dirt off of him. The baby laughs even louder.

“Shh,” says Shiro. “We don’t want the grumpy man to hear.”

The baby starts to quiet down at that. Shiro almost swears that this baby already knows English. He has to be able to, that’s the only explanation. 

Shiro grabs his freshly washed towel out of the cabinet under the sink. He places it on the toilet seat, planning to put the baby on it after he gets him out of his makeshift bath. He picks the baby up, and the baby  _ shrieks. _

The cold air assaults his body, making him make grabby hands towards the water. Eyes glancing over to the door, Shiro makes haste of placing him on the towel and wrapping him up. 

But it’s too late.

There’s a knock on the door. Shiro freezes.

“Shiro?” comes Matt’s voice, low and heavy with sleep.

“Yeah?” says Shiro, attempting to feign innocent, but it doesn’t exactly work, his voice cracking on the one word.

“What the hell was that?”

“Uh. I dropped something.” Nice lie, Shiro. What the fuck sounds like a baby when it falls?

“Try again.”

The baby coos happily.

“Open the door.”

Shiro sighs, closing his eyes, taking a moment to ready himself for an onslaught of yelling. 

He walks the few feet over to the door, opening it. He’s never seen Matt look so stern; his expressions usually only range from dead tired to having drank four red bulls to happy go lucky. Never stern. Quite a role reversal. Normally it’s Matt who makes the less than smart decision with Shiro having to be the adult, but not know. And especially not with a baby laughing happily, shoving a corner of a towel into his mouth to suck on.

“So what’s that?” says Matt, nodding his head to the baby.

“I, uh. I found him,” says Shiro, twisting his mouth.

“And so you brought him here because?”

“Because he was alone - ” 

Matt opens his mouth, face already twisting with an angry confusion.

“- and in a dumpster,” finishes Shiro quickly.

Matt’s mouth snaps shut.

“He was crying in a dumpster, absolutely freezing. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

Matt blinks at him, face blanking. “I’m too tired for this shit,” he mutters.

He turns his gaze towards the baby, who’s watching the two intently, still sucking on the edge of the towel. 

“You know what? I don’t care. You’re taking care of him, tonight. I’m going back to bed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Matt turns, heading back to his bedroom as Shiro nods his head silently, cheeks flushing slightly.

That was unexpectedly easy. Well, best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro plasters a smile on his face. He turns back to the baby, who’s  _ still _ watching him, eyes not missing a single thing.

“The grumpy man said you can stay!” he coos. Squatting down to face level, holding out his arms towards the baby. The baby mimics the motion, reaching out for Shiro as he let the towel fall from his lips.

“I am  _ not _ grumpy!” yells Matt, closing his bedroom door immediately afterward.

Shiro winks at the baby. “Grumpy,” he says, scooping the baby, towel and all, up into his arms.

He yawns, mouth opening big and wide against Shiro’s chest. Shiro chuckles. “I think it’s bedtime, huh?”

The baby nuzzles into him, making Shiro smile.

God, Shiro is in way in over his head. He’s had this baby for what? An hour? If even that. And yet here he is, falling for every little thing he does. Every little coo pulling at his heartstrings, every little cry worrying him, every little motion making Shiro want to protect him from anything and everything the shitty world might throw at this tiny baby. 

Quickly bending over, Shiro snatches the baby’s clothes and blanket. He opens the door to the bathroom and heads over to his own room. He grabs a shirt out of the laundry basket on the way - the kid’s gotta wear something. 

As he enters his room, he kicks the door shut. The baby jolts at the sound of the door slamming shut, but other than that doesn’t seem too fazed. Shiro puts him down on the bed, grabbing an end of the towel to dab at the water still clinging to his hair and tiny body. The baby laughs as he pats at his stomach, reaching to grab for his feet, only to find them still covered by the towel.

“Ticklish, are we?” says Shiro, a mischievous grin breaking out across his face.

Shiro feathers his fingers down the baby’s stomach, reveling in the sheer joy in the baby’s laughter. The baby jerks around as he laughs, trying to out from Shiro’s touch. Shiro laughs along with him, unable to help himself. 

It’s one of the few times in the past couple years that Shiro’s laugh came to him completely uninhibited, completely genuine. Ever since his accident laughter never always came very easily, mostly something he did to appease other people. Nothing was really all that funny to him anymore. 

There were definitely times where he laughed and meant it, but it didn’t feel as genuine as this. Not as pure. It didn’t come as easily as this did. Although, nothing can really compare to having a baby giggle and shriek while he tickled him.

That’s probably the one thing he’s always loved about babies. Their laugh is always genuine. They don’t know how to fake laughs. They didn’t know what it was like to force a laugh so that people didn’t get worried or feel bad that they aren’t funny enough or to do it as a nervous reflex. When they laugh, they do it because they’re happy.

And it’s absolutely infectious, but Shiro decides to have mercy on the kid. He rubs at his belly, soothing any fleeting feelings of Shiro’s hand. The baby grabs at his fingers, wrapping a fist around one of them. Shiro bends his finger a couple times, watching as the baby’s eyes grew wide, a noise of curiosity bubbling out.

Shiro laughs again. Wow, he’s  _ very _ easily entertained. He bends his finger again, watching as a smile breaks out across his tiny face. 

Taking time to truly look at the baby, he sees about five teeth in his mouth, his top, front two and three on the bottom. There are a couple more starting to poke at his gums, but they haven’t broken through yet. 

Shiro may not know much about babies, but he does know that teething hurts like a bitch. He’s kinda surprised that the baby hasn’t cried much. Well, at all. He stopped crying the moment Shiro picked him up and, besides tearing up in the bathroom, hasn’t teared up much, if at all. 

Well, guess Shiro’s gotta put teething toys on the list for tomorrow as well. 

He finishes wiping off the baby, removing the towel from around him. Oh shit, he needs a diaper for the baby. Looking around his room, he spots a pair of his boxers. Boxers would be good enough, right? As long as Shiro pins it so it fits snug on the baby’s body.

Going over to his dresser, he opens the top drawer and pulls out a clean pair of boxers. Grabbing a couple safety pins that he has sitting in a bowl atop his dresser, Shiro returns to the baby. He gently wraps the pair of boxers around him, pinning it together at his sides. Checking and then double checking that the pins wouldn’t hurt the baby, he grabs the shirt he took from the laundry basket.

He wraps the shirt around the baby as if it were a blanket, carefully attempting - and absolutely failing - to wrap him in a proper swaddle. He takes about three tries to get it right before giving up, simply wrapping the shirt around him and hoping it’ll stay.

The baby seems content enough, eyes falling shut as Shiro backs up to admire his handy work. Taking a deep breath and accepting that’s the best he can do, for now, Shiro walks over to his dresser, careful to keep an eye on the baby, taking his work khakis off on the way. He throws them into his hamper. 

Opening the bottom drawer of his dresser, he pulls out a pair of black sweatpants with a couple thin stripes running down the side. Stepping into the legs, he shimmies them up to his hips. He then pulls off his work shirt, the disgusting bright red that literally flatters no one and throws it into the hamper to join his pants. 

He takes a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror for just a moment before quickly glancing away. 

Shiro goes back to the baby. Its old blanket is still lying on the bed. Picking it up, Shiro’s nose wrinkles. God, it  _ smells. _ He turns the blanket around, seeing if the side that the baby was swaddled in is faring any better. It’s slightly less gross, but the dirt and grim seems to have seeped through the thin fabric. 

That’s when he sees it. The tiny letters stitched into the fabric with the utmost of care.

_ L A N C E _

So he does have a family somewhere. And a name.

For some reason that both excites Shiro and drives a stake through his heart. On the one hand, the baby -  _ Lance _ \- has people out there that love and care about him. On the other hand, it means that eventually this will, in fact, end. He’s going to have to give Lance up. Give him back to his family.  _ Say goodbye. _

Shiro doesn’t… He doesn’t want to think about this right now.

He takes the blanket over to his door, throwing it in front of it so he’d remember to get it washed in the morning and hopefully convince Matt to mend the holes - which is unlikely, but he could at least try.

Returning to Lance who seems to be sound asleep, he picks him, up, holding him to his chest with one arm while he uses his prosthetic to pull back his blankets. He knows it’s not always very safe to sleep with a baby in the bed, but he has nowhere else to put him. Lying down in the bed, he’s careful not to jostle Lance too much. He rests him atop his chest. Lance is lying on his stomach, his face turned towards Shiro’s window, which has an absolutely stunning view of a brick building about six feet away.

He grabs his two extra pillows, placing them on either side of Lance. He pulls Lance’s little hand out from the pillows and pokes his palm with his index finger of his prosthetic hand. For a split second, he worries Lance will pull away from the cold metal, but he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his hand around the finger, squeezing. Shiro smiles fondly.

He places his hand in Lance’s hair, gently smoothing it in his fingers. His hair is silky soft, and his head is about the size of Shiro’s palm. Lance sniffles, making a small noise in the back of his throat. Shiro looks down, checking to see if his eyes are open - they aren’t.

Shiro settles into his pillow, not used to sleeping on his back, and especially not used to the small, but prominent weight on the center of his chest.

He closes his eyes, only for the events of the day to come rushing back at him.

When he woke up that morning, never in a million years did he think that he’d be taking home a  _ baby. _ Of all things, it had to be a tiny, helpless human being. It could’ve been a puppy. Or a cute picture of a kitten. But no, it’s a real, living, breathing human child. And it’s fucking terrifying.

He has somehow become responsible for someone’s baby. For keeping it safe and alive until he could be returned. He has to get formula, diapers, toys, clothes, everything for this baby, things that are honestly probably out of stock at the store. Yes, they got a new shipment in, but how much would it even be?

And then he had to be able to actually  _ track down _ Lance’s family. He can’t exactly go knocking on the doors of the five-hundred-thousand people who live in this city looking for the one family who lost a baby named Lance. He could always post missing posters, but what if some creeps came a-knocking? How is he supposed to get them to prove that Lance is actually their child?

Shiro sighs. This is way too much to deal with, but he’s the one who made his bed. He needs to lay in it. 

And, god, he needs a backrub.


	2. The Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up with accidentally acquired baby laying on his chest, Shiro and Matt have to go to the store just before the storm hits to keep him alive for the next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for such a long wait. this chapter kicked my ass over and over again. thank you all so much for your kind words and your encouragement, it's seriously kept me going <3
> 
> and a HUGE thank you to [laine-brain](https://laine-brain.tumblr.com/) for making [this absolutely adorable and beautiful piece of fan art for the first chapter!!](https://laine-brain.tumblr.com/post/157967786700/so-i-was-scrollin-through-the-archive-and-i) i loved it so much, thank you from the bottom of my heart ;u; <3 <3 <3
> 
> anyways, this is the first half of the first "official" day with baby Lance! i'm hoping the next half of this chapter will come out soon as i already have it basically half written :D

There’s an unusual weight on Shiro’s chest the next morning. It’s light but focused on the dead center of his chest. As he shifts, there’s a puddle of - of something on his chest that sloshes slightly as the pillows propped up at his sides fall, one falling all the way down to the floor with a very soft thud. 

Shiro’s eyes slowly peel open, only to be greeted by a tuft of brown hair. What?  _ What? _ He panics for a moment, feeling his heartbeat sharply rise before the events of last night came rushing back. His breaths hitch, chest starting to heave with each breath, but the weight of the baby shifts with his chest, a reminder that he isn’t alone. 

He takes a deep breath. Okay. It’s just the baby, - just  _ Lance _ . Wait. Oh no. God,  _ why did he take this baby home _ ? What the hell was he going to do with a baby? What if he gets sick? Or refuses to let Shiro feed him? What if he falls or bangs his head on something? He can barely take care of himself enough to brush his teeth every morning, let alone a  _ baby. _

Shiro leans his head back, taking another deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then lets it go. He can do this; he just needs to think.

Alright. First things first. There is a baby sleeping on him that likely pissed and shit all over both himself and Shiro last night, so he’s going to need another bath. However, Matt is probably still sleeping, and Shiro’s not willing to have  _ that _ talk so early in the morning. Second, Lance is probably going to be upset that he won’t be able to eat right away.  _ Therefore, _ Shiro needs to keep the beast asleep as long as possible. Third, Shiro will need to run out before the storm hits to get everything Lance needs, assuming the store is actually stocked.

But those are problems for Future Shiro.

Shiro carefully places his hands on Lance, his flesh one splayed out over his back and prosthetic under his butt to help support him as Shiro slowly sits up. And, of course, he forgot about the puddle on his chest. Feeling it run down his skin, he looks at his torso, watching thick glob of drool slowly making it’s way down, feeling it dry against his skin. He groans quietly. Great, now he needs a bath too.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, knees cracking as he stands up, hands holding Lance tighter against him as he tries not to jostle him too much. But because the universe hates Shiro, he stumbles as he stands up, tripping over the forgotten pillow. He rights himself before he falls.

A soft, high-pitched noise escapes Lance’s mouth as a tired hand comes up to rest on Shiro’s chest. Shiro looks down to the baby, already heading towards his door. Lance lets out a wide, tired yawn, his other hand coming up to his eye, rubbing it with the back of his hand. 

But surprisingly enough, Lance just turns in Shiro’s arms as he wakes up, watching the room pass around him as Shiro grabs another pair of boxers and a shirt for himself from his dresser and goes to his door, cracking it open. He peaks through, checking for any signs that Matt is awake. Not seeing anything, he makes a beeline for the bathroom, watching Lance’s head swivel around, eyes wide with wonder as he takes in everything around him. He must’ve been too tired last night to notice anything.

Shiro can’t get over just how adorable his eyes are. He knows that babies are usually born with blue eyes, but Lance’s are beautifully unique. They’re an unbelievably deep blue but still have a very slight green tint to them, a color he has never seen before. They’re somehow as beautiful as the ocean is way out from the shore, and yet still have the beautiful color of a clear shoreline. It’s something Shiro never thought he’d see in his life, yet here it is, on this adorable, big-eyed, chubby-cheeked baby. 

Shiro takes him into the bathroom, swiftly closing the door behind them. As he takes the couple steps over to the tub, he pulls the shirt out from around Lance, shifting him in his arms to get it off without having to yank. He sets it down onto the lid of the toilet seat. 

Bending over, he lays Lance in the tub. Giggling, Lance reaches his hands out for the faucet, trying to grab at it. This fucking adorable little baby wants another bath. He might be the first kid ever to actually enjoy getting washed. 

Quickly, Shiro turns away from him and pulls his shirt on, having already forgotten about the rapidly drying drool that made its way down his chest. Mentally cursing, he turns back to Lance. He giggles again as he stares up at Shiro, grabbing at his feet and rocking slightly, completely unfazed by the cool surface of the tub.

Shaking his head and smiling, Shiro kneels down, placing the fresh pair of boxers on the floor next to him. He unclips the safety pins from the sides of Lance’s makeshift diaper,  _ very careful _ to make sure that he didn’t poke him with them. The boxers fall to the side, slightly stiff from dried pee. Shiro makes a face. He doesn’t even want to know how much soaked through and got on him. Thankfully, however, there wasn’t any poop. Although that does mean that Lance would be needing to go soon. Shiro sighs. Great.

Shiro grabs the tub of butt wipes from the top of the toilet, placing it next to him and the new pair of boxers. He grabs a wipe and gently starts to clean Lance, careful not to irritate his rash. He essentially gives Lance a wet nap wash, just with the butt wipes, using almost five before he finally decides Lance is clean enough. 

He wraps the new pair of boxers around Lance, using the same safety pins to pin them back together. Lance wiggles a bit, face contorting in discomfort. Yeah, Shiro’s gonna need to get him proper diapers for the week, too.

Picking him up, Shiro heads out of the bathroom. 

Matt is out already and about, bumbling about in the kitchen as he presumably tries to find some sort of breakfast. He looks like death incarnate, dark circles forming around his eyes, face drooping with an invisible weight attached to it. 

“Morning,” says Shiro.

Matt grunts in response, turning away from Shiro as he slides the coffeemaker towards him. He opens up the air-locked container of coffee beans, room instantly filling with the earthy, slightly bitter smell any college student is deeply familiar with

“Sleep well?” asks Shiro with a chuckle.

Lance presses his head against Shiro’s chest as he laughs, eyes sliding shut. It must be soothing to him… Shiro makes note of that for later when he starts crying. It’s honestly some sort of miracle that the only time Lance cried was last night, for a fraction of a second. 

Matt grunts again, turning around to face him as he rubs at his eyes. “Can you get this thing? I can’t even read the buttons right now.”

His voice is low and hoarse from sleep. Shiro feels his face heat slightly but keeps his expression neutral. “Yeah, sure, can you just hold him?” He shifts his grip on Lance as he holds him out to Matt.

Matt opens his eyes, squinting them at the two. Matt doesn’t even have his glasses on yet. How in the hell did he expect to work the coffee maker with or without sleep?

“I knew that wasn’t a dream,” mumbles Matt. “I’ll just do it.” 

He turns back to the coffee maker, shoulders slumping with a sigh. 

“You just need to hold him for a minute and I can do it,” says Shiro matter-of-factly.

“It’s fine, Shiro.”

Shiro sighs, shaking his head at Matt’s back. He’s never understood Matt’s vendetta against babies; what in the hell could they have done to him? “Okay, okay, but if you get it everywhere, I’m not helping you clean it up.”

Matt laughs, low with sleep. “We both know you will, Shiro.”

“Yeah, well, not this time.”

Matt hums in disbelief but doesn’t take it any further. And really isn’t wrong; if something happens, Shiro is always the first to help. He hates that about himself. 

Shiro rolls his eyes, moving over to the small slice of wall next to the fridge and leaning his back up against it. His shoulder hits the hole he and Matt accidentally put there a couple months back when they got just a _ bit  _ too drunk.

Matt had taken Shiro’s glass, telling him he had enough before taking a gulp from it. Shiro had lunged for it, but missed by so much it was embarrassing. He ended up slamming his body into Matt’s and sent them both against the wall. They had been laughing so hard they hadn’t even noticed Matt’s elbow going through it until next day around two o’clock, when a heavily hungover Shiro came bumbling into the kitchen, only to be greeted by the hole. According to Matt, the sigh he gave rivaled that of a parent who’s child decided to become a wheel for the rest of their life.

That night had been… something else. After that, they sat on the couch, finishing up whatever concoction Matt had come up with and watching shitty soap operas. Shiro had tested his luck, plopping himself down right next to Matt, stretching an arm over the back of the couch behind him. Whether it was on purpose or not, Matt had ended up essentially laying on his shoulder.

He’d been happy he was too drunk to truly remember the way his heart had clenched, faltering in his chest as he desperately tried not to wrap his arm around Matt. To squeeze him against him and pepper him in meaningless little kisses that, in reality, meant everything to Shiro. But Matt wasn’t his, and he wasn’t Matt’s. It wasn’t his place to do so. Won’t ever be his place to do so.

His eyes travel down to his torso where one of the few things stopping him from flirting with Matt lay hidden under a thin layer of fabric, but his field of vision is interrupted by a tuft of shiny brown hair and a little hand. Shiro smiles, ducking his head down to press his nose against into Lance’s hair. He takes a deep breath, the distinct  _ baby _ smell filling his nose. God, he loves that smell. 

Lance coos, giggling as he looks up at Shiro, adorable blue eyes twinkling. Shiro boops Lance’s forehead with his nose before straightening back up. Lance thumps his head against Shiro’s chest. If Matt won’t love Lance, then Shiro will do it for the both of them. Which reminds him.

“Hey, I’m gonna have to run to the store today,” says Shiro. 

“Are you trying to die?” asks Matt, whipping around to face him, expression incredulous.

“Lance needs a whole bunch of shit that we don’t have, Matt,” says Shiro matter-of-factly. “I’m not going to just let him get sick or… something,” says Shiro.

Matt’s shoulders drop as he rolls his eyes. “‘Lance’? Oh my god, Shiro, don’t tell me you  _ already _ gave it a name.”

“First off,  _ him. _ Second, it was written on the blanket he was wrapped in.” 

“Wait. So you found him in a dumpster, but someone took the time to write his name on the blanket?”

“I - I guess.”

“Why don’t you just take him to the police office?” asks Matt. “They can find him a family, or get him into a foster home.”

“They’re already closed, Matt, but the store’s open ‘til the storm’s supposed to hit.  _ Anyway _ ,” says Shiro, cutting Matt off as he opened his mouth, presumably to protest. “Could you watch Lance while I’m out?”

“What?” asks Matt incredulously. “No. Absolutely not.”

“It’ll just be an hour,” pleads Shiro. 

Lance shifts in his arms. He looks down, watching Lance try to turn and look at the source of the new voice. Shiro changes his grip on him, resting Lance on his hip. Excitedly, Lance looks around, eyes focusing on Matt after he takes in the new room. Matt looks at him with a soft sort of disdain. Looks like even Grumpy Pants can’t stay angry at a baby all the time.

“Still no,” says Matt, turning back to the coffee machine. 

“What can I do to make you say yes?” asks Shiro, walking over to Matt.

He leans the small of his back onto the lip of the counter. Lance coos again, reaching out for Matt, making grabby hands with his tiny fists, mouth pulled into a wide, toothy smile. Matt scowls back. Shiro clicks his tongue at him, tilting his head to the side as he levels Matt with a glare.

Matt sighs. “How ‘bout I just go?”

“Uh-uh. You’ll buy the cheapest stuff and end up killing Lance.”

“Do you really have that little trust in me?”

“Yes. Either way,  _ I’m _ the one who works at Target, so  _ I _ need to be there to get the discount.”

“So why don’t you just take him with you,” offers Matt with a huff.

“Yeah, and while I’m at it, I’ll just push the cart around with magic. Hell, if I can do that, why don’t I just summon all the stuff we need.”

“Great idea, Shiro,” says Matt, taking a step towards him to pat him on the shoulder before returning to the coffee maker. 

“Okay, fine. Just come along. All you have to do is hold him while I shop.”

“I’ll do it on one condition.”

“What?” asks Shiro, exasperated.

“Well, a couple, actually. First, you carry him there -”

“Fine.”

“- and two, you have to change all his diapers as well as clean up any spit up or piss or shit that he gets anywhere.”

“You do know that if I just leave it then you have to deal with it, too.”

“Yeah? And which one of us grew up with a slobby-ass sister and had to deal with unimaginable smells permeating the wall we shared?”

Shiro stays quiet, eyes fixed on Matt, face completely blank. Matt goes to work on the machine, opening the top as he pours scoop after scoop of coffee grinds into the filter. Shiro doesn’t even blink as he silently watches, planning how he might be able to simultaneously kill Matt while also forcing him to at least look at Lance for more than two seconds.

Lance shifts uncomfortably in his arms, a small noise bubbling out of his throat. Fighting every urge to see if anything’s wrong, Shiro keeps glaring. That is until Lance gives a small, choked back sob. Immediately, Shiro whips his head over to him. Lance is looking up at him, tears in his eyes, meek as ever. Shiro can actually feel the rumble of his stomach in the hand curled around Lance’s waist.

With a sigh, Shiro looks back at Matt who is pouring the last cup of water into the water tank. “Okay, okay. Fine, but we have to go soon.”

He rubs his thumb along Lance’s side, soothing the baby as he chokes back another sob. He wonders why Lance wouldn’t go into a full cry, pretty much every other baby would. And why doesn’t he cry more? Surely by now, any other baby would have cried at least twenty times, if not more. But after the second one, he stops, staring up at Shiro with eyes that could only be described as pleading.

“That’s good with me,” he clicks the  _ Brew _ button, “but you smell like dried piss.”

“Thanks, Matt. ‘Preciate, it.”

“Anytime.”

“Will you at least watch him while I take a quick shower?”

“I told you, I’m not being left alone with a baby.”

“Then sit in the bathroom with him while I shower,” says Shiro, voice starting to rise as he grows frustrated.

Sensing this, Matt holds up his hands and bows his gaze. “Okay, okay. You taking it now?” 

“Yeah. Can you grab him a little bowl of Cheerios or something? He needs to eat.”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you in there.”

With that, Shiro carries Lance over into his bedroom, grabbing a simple black long-sleeved t-shirt, a loose-fitting gray sweatshirt, and black sweatpants with two white stripes down the side. He gathers them in his free arm, Lance watching curiously the entire time.

Afterward, they head to the bathroom, Shiro placing Lance on the cold tile as he walks over to their tub-shower combo. He turns the faucet on, pulling up the little plug to change it from a bath to a shower. Lance claps excitedly behind him, a joyous giggle ringing throughout the room.

Chuckling, Shiro turns. Lance’s chubby cheeks are pulled into the biggest smile, his few teeth put on display for the entire world to see. His little hands come together clumsily, missing their mark a few times, but Lance doesn’t seem to care. He gets onto his hands and knees, crawling towards Shiro, giggling the entire way. 

But Shiro swoops him up into his arms, raising him above his head with a grin before lowering him back onto the toilet lid. “Sorry, bud, but this one’s not for you,” he says, ruffling Lance’s hair. It’s then that Matt walks in with a small, plastic bowl full of Cheerios. 

“This is the last of ‘em so we’re gonna have to grab some more,” he says, handing the bowl over to Shiro.

“That’s fine.” He grabs the bowl, reaching over Lance to do so, before kneeling down to his height, holding the bowl out to the baby.

Lance's eyes widen as he reaches a chubby hand in, taking a handful of Cheerios and bringing them up to his mouth. He drops about half of them, either by falling out of his fist or by him missing his mouth, but he gets most of them in and chomps down with a crunch that brought a smile to Lance’s face.

Shiro lets Lance take another handful before holding the bowl back out to Matt. “Just make sure he doesn’t choke or fall off, that’s all you gotta do.”

Matt looks over to Lance - who’s sitting on the toilet, watching the two of them with big eyes - with trepidation, worry lines appearing on his forehead as his brows pull together. However, he takes the bowl and kneels, mirroring Shiro.

And so, Shiro stands, reaching up above the toilet to grab his towel off of the rack. 

He looks over at Matt, who’s faced directly towards him, and bites his lip. “Hey, Matt?” Matt looks up to him. “Could you - could turn around?” His voice cracks; he clears his throat before continuing. “Just for a bit.” He feels his face flush as Matt turns around, heat starting from his ears and spreading towards his nose.

Lance looks up at him questioningly. Shiro grabs him under the armpits, facing him the same way as Matt, hearing Matt laugh out of his nose as he does so. Somehow, he still feels shy knowing Lance might be watching him.

So he turns around, stripping out of his clothes as quickly as he can, placing his towel on the mat next to the tub, and steps in. His skin is instantly hit by the warm, wet relief of the water. He situates himself under the spray, his position allowing the water to hit all of his back and hair, but keeps his face dry when he tips his head back slightly.

A part of him is constantly thinking about Matt, the fact that he’s actually in the room right now. God if Shiro falls or slips, Matt would probably see him in all his… well, not  _ glory. _ But still. He isn’t exactly enthused about that thought. It’s not like he actually has a chance with his friend - he’s only dated girls and has never shown any interest in boys - but there’s still a part of him that’s hopeful. That maybe Matt is willing to see past Shiro’s numerous flaws and actually find him dateable, find him desirable.

But that’s a dream, one that he can never act on; it would be such a breach of privacy and trust. And it’s not like Matt doesn’t know he likes men too, he just doesn’t exactly know the  _ specific _ man that Shiro likes.

Either way, the thought paired with the hot water makes him flush from his ears down to his chest. He’s just glad that Matt can’t see him through the curtain. 

Shiro makes quick work of the shower, not caring about washing his hair and instead opting for his body and face. He uses Matt’s face soap, both applying and washing it off within about one minute before grabbing his loofa. He fills it with his body wash, and  _ scrubs _ at his body. He does  _ not  _ need to be walking into his workplace smelling like dried piss, no matter who it belongs to.

All in all, he’s out in about five minutes, just long enough for the bottom of the tub to fill with a couple inches of water due to Matt’s hair clogging their drain. He still has yet to actually get Matt to clean it out, despite numerous reminders. Turning the shower off, he presses the plug back into the faucet, causing a small rush of water to spew out. He reaches his hand out through the bottom of the curtain, grabbing the towel and pulling it back into the shower. 

He wipes his body off hastily, paying special attention to the places that tend to remain wetter longer, mainly his legs and armpits. Running his towel through his hair, a tiny hand appears under the shower curtain. Shiro wraps the towel around his waist and bends down, poking the palm of said hand.

A tiny giggle erupts from the other side of the curtain, making Shiro laugh along with and he could swear he heard a nearly silent chuckle coming from the room as well. Looks like Grumpy Pants may be starting to warm up to the baby after all.

Lance grabs the curtain, pulling it back just enough to wiggle himself in the middle of the curtain and edge of the tub. He looks down into the tub, letting out a screeching laugh as he sees water. He moves to get into the tub, arms bending to bear his weight as he tilts to the side, about to bring his leg up. However, Shiro - worry about him falling - grabs him before he can do anything.

Resting Lance on his hip, Lance starts poking at the scars on Shiro’s torso, eyes concentrated as little noises of curiosity come from his mouth. Shiro quickly moves his hand away, placing it back at Lance’s side, but Lance brings his hand back, poking them again.

“Oop. Sorry about that, Shiro. Here, I’ll grab him,” says Matt. He hears a bone pop as Matt stands up and footsteps coming towards the shower. 

His heart rate picks up in an instant. Matt can’t see his scars. He can’t grab Lance. He can’t see them. He’ll find them so gross. He’ll find Shiro gross. He’ll pity him. No, he can’t. No, no,  _ no. _

But it’s too late. Matt pulls the curtain to the side, already reaching out for Lance. He thrusts him into Matt’s arms, quickly pulling the shower curtain to cover his body. Which is exactly when he realizes his clothes are over by the toilet, completely out of reach. Of course, he would.

He sighs, taking a moment to reign his voice in. “Could you pass me my clothes?” he asks in what he hopes is a smooth, gentle voice.

“Yeah,” said Matt. He heard Matt grunt and a shifting of clothes, presumably him switching Lance onto his hip. “You know, you could just come out. We both have dicks, it’s not like you have something I haven’t seen before.”

_ Except my scars. _

Either way, Matt sticks his hand past the shower curtain, clothes in hand. Shiro grabs them, throwing his shirt, sweatshirt, and sweatpant over the top of the shower curtain, keeping them dry as he tugs on his boxers. Pulling down his long-sleeve, he slowly slides his prosthetic in, carefully avoiding the notches before quickly putting on the rest of the shirt. 

Moving half the curtain to the side, he steps out of the tub, stepping into his sweatpants as he does so. He pulls up the sleeves of his shirt, resting them just above his elbows as he reaches back up, pulling his sweatshirt down from the top of the curtain and slipping it over his head, repeating the same steps from the shirt. He tugs the sleeves up again but stops just past the middle of his forearm.

Looking over at Matt and Lance, he sees that the baby still in his roommate’s arms, resting on the hip closest to Shiro as Matt stands in front of the mirror. Lance has a fist full of Matt’s hair, eyeing at it while Matt watches, an unusually fond expression written on his face. He only sees this for a fleeting moment until Matt catches his soft eyes. Immediately Matt’s face goes neutral if not slightly disdainful. He gently removes Lance’s fist from his hair, handing Lance over to Shiro as he tries to grab it again.

“Take your baby back,” he grumbles, pointedly ignoring Shiro’s knowing smile. The baby is thrust into his arms.

They both head over to Shiro’s room, where Shiro grabs two of his old shirts out of the laundry. He wraps them both tightly around Lance, making sure not a single part of his body was visible. Then he grabs one of his beanies off of his desk, placing it over Lance’s head. It’s  _ far _ too big. It falls down, covering his entire face plus some.

Matt laughs behind him, making Shiro laugh as well. He looks like he’s in a cocoon with the hat on. Lifting up the end, Lance peeks out at him, confusion written all over his face, mouth parted. However, as he locks eyes with Shiro, his eyes light up as coos at Shiro, wiggling slightly in the swaddle of shirts.

His heart clenches in his chest. God, Lance might actually be the end of him. From the dark brown mop of hair to his big, soft, dark blue eyes to his chubby belly to tiny toes, Shiro is slowly falling deeper and deeper in love with this little cutie. Giving him back to his family or having to hand him over to a foster home might become the worst day of his life. 

And with that, Matt hands him his coat and they head out of the apartment, Shiro holding Lance close. Before they even reach the elevator, Shiro repeats what he did last night, keeping Lance tight against his torso as he pulled part of his coat over him to cover him, earning an eye roll from Matt. 

“He’s gonna freeze. I need to keep him warm,” explains Shiro as Matt presses the button to call the elevator.

“Mhmm,” hums Matt, smiling at Shiro.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Shiro playfully.

The elevator dings open. The two walk on.

Matt shrugs. “You like holding him close. It’s just - just kinda adorable.”

With that, Shiro feels himself flush. He turns slightly as he reaches presses the button for the ground floor, grateful Matt can’t see his face, if even for two seconds. He called Shiro  _ adorable. _ He’s never said that before, at least not about Shiro. Pretending he doesn’t feel his heart pick up in his chest, he purses his lips, sucking his cheeks in in a feeble attempt to hide it as he faces the door of the elevator, counting each  _ beep  _ until they slow to a stop at the ground floor.

As much as he loves the casual flirt, he doesn’t even think Matt knew what he was saying. He was actually probably just calling Lance adorable, not Shiro, a thought that makes his heart droop. But likely the right one. He sighs, stepping out of the elevator as the door dings open.

Yeah. Not him.

 

* * *

 

The gust of dry, hot air is the perfect welcome as they walk through the automatic doors of the Target Shiro works at. Matt had been shivering the whole walk there, voice trembling as he talked, teeth clicking when he wasn’t. When Shiro called him a baby, Matt - quite angrily - pointed out that the actual baby was wrapped in a coat with a living furnace. Then Matt yelled, furiously fast-walking away as Shiro had to stop to laugh. 

He can feel more than hear the collective groan coming from the store as they walk in. Chuckling, his ears tune into the voice coming over the intercom, far too used to having to strain his ears to hear whatever announcement is being made. He really needs to work less.

“ _ Someone help Shiro and his friend get their sorry asses out of here ASAP _ ,” says his manager. 

“Yes,  _ please, _ ” yells Matt up towards the ceiling. 

He hears his manager laughing just as she hung up the speaker. 

Looking around, Shiro lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The shelves are almost fully stocked, save for a couple empty places here and there. Thankfully, it won’t be a fight to keep Lance alive for the week.

It’s a mere twenty seconds before just about every employee in the store is greeting them at the front as they’re grabbing a cart.

“What the fuck, Shiro,” asks a familiar voice. Shiro turns only to be greeted by an annoyed, frustrated blonde, scowling at him like there was no tomorrow.

“Hello to you too, Nyma,” says Shiro with a grin.

“Just tell us what you need,” she says as she sighs.

Shiro glances over at Matt, the two sharing a look. Taking a deep breath, Shiro uncovers Lance. He peeks out, taking in his surroundings up until he sees a large group of angry looking people all staring at him. He startles, thrusting his face into the crook of Shiro’s neck, hand grabbing a fistful of Shiro’s shirt.

Patting his back, Shiro shushes him - a soft, gentle noise meant to calm him. He bounces slightly on the balls of his feet.

“And who is that?” coos Tanya, coming closer as her eyes light up. 

“This is Lance. It’s a really long story, but he’s with me temporarily. Can you guys help us get enough food, supplies, and toys for him?”

Tanya and about half the group nod sternly while some stand frozen, mouths gaping as they stared at Lance and others kept glaring at Shiro and Matt as if a look could strike them down on the spot. 

“What do you need?” asks Rolo, stepping forward and taking the cart from Matt.

Shiro starts listing things off, “Baby food, baby blankets, diapers, baby shampoo and body wash, butt wipes and baby powder, bottles, teething toys as well as regular toys, clothes, and a couple of pillows.”

“And Cheerios,” adds Matt.

“Yes, and Cheerios.”

“You sure you don’t need any nipple cream?” asks Sean, with a smirk Shiro wishes beyond everything he could smack right off. But instead, he smiles, laughing at the joke along with Sean’s little entourage. 

Honestly, when he took this job he never expected cliques, and yet he decided to work at the one Target in town where the douchiest of fuckboys worked. It was tiring to no end, but Shiro had quickly found out that any reaction besides laughing along with them just egged them on more. He tended to laugh the hardest at their jokes, causing them to stop, quickly exiting the room as they went on to torment someone else - usually Rhetta, their manager. 

He and Matt watched as Shiro’s co-workers split into pairs, all set on finding one specific item, walkie-talkies in hand as they radioed Rhetta, asking for the best, but least expensive brands for each. Rolo goes to man the checkout, scanning every item as they came in.

It’s almost comedic, standing at the front of the store, watching as his friends and coworkers sprint around the store, frantically talking in the walkie-talkie as they went. He watches Alex wipe out a couple aisles down as they tried to stop and turn far too quickly. He feels bad for laughing, but can’t help it when Matt laughs so hard he falls down onto the floor. It’s not even two minutes later when they hear a loud crash on the other side of the store, followed by a sighing Rhetta on the intercom. “Clean up in produce.”

“I’m  _ sorry! _ ” yells a voice Shiro can’t quite place. Must be one of the newbies they hired last week. He still has yet to meet them.

In all it only takes about ten minutes for everyone to collect enough to last Lance the week, plus some, but it never hurts to be safe than sorry in this weather. In the meantime, Shiro and Matt grabbed some extra food, another gas-powered portable heater, and the heating packets that activate when you shake them.

The entire time, Lance alternates between peeking out of his hiding spot and forcefully shoving his face back in. 

He brings them up to the checkout counter, placing them right next to the scanner before pulling his debit card out of his wallet with his free hand. Rolo places the items into a plastic bag immediately, not even scanning them. Shiro sends him a confused look, but Rolo waves him off, mouthing  _ on me. _ Mouthing a thank you, Shiro puts his card into the chip reader and Matt slides around him, picking up as many bags as he can hold. 

The reader beeps, prompting Shiro to grab his card. He puts it back in his wallet, turning toward the remaining bags. Even though Matt is holding at least five in each hand, there’s still ten left, far more than Shiro can carry with a baby taking up one arm. Mouth twisting, Shiro reasons he may be able to hold a few in the hand holding Lance and take the rest in his prosthetic.

But the decision is made for him when Nyma comes out from the back room, twirling her keys around her fingers. She makes her way over to them, grabbing four bags in each hand.

Matt is opening his mouth when Nyma cuts him off. “Come on, losers, I’m driving you home.”

Smiling, Shiro grabs the two remaining bags and follows her out of the store towards her baby blue Honda, Matt just a couple steps behind him. Shiro turns, walking backward. Matt is slightly hunched, the weight of the bags seeming to be  _ just _ too much for him. 

“Want any help with those?” asks Shiro, already holding out the hand carrying the two bags.

Matt shakes his head, gritting out, “Nah, I’m good,” through clenched teeth.

He raises the bags, keeping his arms at an angle as they walk back. It seems to put more strain onto him, but he straightens up, eyes meeting Shiro’s, searching them for something - what exactly, Shiro has no clue. He turns the corner of his mouth down, impressed, watching as Matt’s eyes light up, a slight smile tugging at his lips before turning back around. 

Nyma presses the keypad on her keys, the trunk of her car popping open. She goes to put her bags down when Shiro jogs forward slightly, calling, “I can get it.”

But he forgot about Lance. Lance’s arms throw themselves around his neck, the baby letting out a small cry as he’s jostled around. Shiro quickly opens the trunk, placing his bags in first before he wraps his other arm around Lance, prosthetic joining his flesh hand as one rubs his back and the other pats his side. 

After a minute, Lance releases his grip, hands sliding down, one grabbing the sweatshirt by Shiro’s shoulder, while the other comes to his side as he twists, looking around. His eyes meet Nyma’s as she finishes rearranging the bags in the trunk. She smiles at him, waving a hand at him. He mimics her, letting out a quiet giggle. Nyma takes the couple steps towards them. She runs her hands up and down Lance’s clothed belly. He lets out a harsh screech, followed by a laugh. She and Shiro laugh along with him, eyes twinkling as the baby twists back around, hiding his stomach from her.

“Can we go before the storm hits?” asks Matt, irritation evident in his voice.

Shiro looks over to him, sending him a questioning look, but Matt turns, opening the passenger door and sliding in. Nyma shrugs as soon as Shiro meets her eyes. “You know him better than me,” she whispers. With that, she walks over to the driver’s side turning the key in the engine before the door fully closed.

Sighing, Shiro rubs Lance’s back, heading to the door behind the driver’s seat and slipping in. He situates Lance on the seat next to him, quickly buckles his seatbelt, and then scoops him back up, cradling him in his arms, holding him close as Nyma backs out of the parking spot.

“By the way, thank you,” says Nyma as she pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main street. “If it weren’t for you guys, Rhetta wouldn’t have let me go early.”

“Well we’re so glad we could help,” says Matt sarcastically. Shiro’s eyes flick up to the rear view mirror, watching as Nyma’s eyes widen momentarily. However, Matt is pointedly looking out the window, jaw set.

It’s so weird for Matt to act like this. Normally he’s kind - if not a bit socially awkward, but still kind. He’s never been so… so curt with anyone he’s just met. Shiro makes a note to ask him later. 

The silence grows increasingly awkward - Nyma’s eyes set on the road, Matt’s set on the passing buildings - Shiro looks out his window. It’s almost surreal, seeing no cars on the street normally at it’s busiest at this time of day. No, surreal isn’t the right word. Off-putting. He feels like he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be anywhere near here. It’s ominous. Everyone is watching, watching for the inevitable snowfall, waiting and waiting to be trapped.

But at the same time, it’s intriguing. He gets to see the city like he’s never seen it before: completely devoid of people. Yeah, it may not necessarily be a  _ city _ city, but the streets almost always had someone on them, no matter the time of day. There was always some business or restaurant with its lights on, neon  _ OPEN _ sign shining bright through the windows. But now there’s nothing, no people, no lights, no neon signs, just two dumbasses in the car of a friend holding a baby they didn’t mean to acquire. 

 

* * *

 

With the car, it takes only five minutes to get back to the apartment. Nyma parks the car, hopping out to help them bring groceries up, which surprised Shiro to no end - but then again, these past few days have been nothing if not full of surprises. They stack the food in the cabinets and then onto the counter once they run out of space. Nyma splits the diapers up, putting two packages into the bathroom and one into Shiro’s room. Matt spends the entire time making a little fort of blankets on the couch, a makeshift bed for Lance until they turn in for the night. Everything else was strewn about, put wherever it would fit or wherever they hoped it belonged.

Nyma says her goodbyes after she finishes teaching Shiro and a very reluctant Matt how to properly swaddle and put a diaper on a baby. But soon after, she high-tails it out of their apartment, but whether it was due to Matt’s unusually hostile attitude or due to the storm, Shiro didn’t know. All he knew was that he was so unbelievably thankful they made it back before the storm hit. 

Now he’s been set to work by Matt on making lunch while he takes a shower. Normally Shiro would give up a small fight, just enough until Matt would begrudgingly help him and he got to spend the time dancing around Matt. To most people that was annoying, but Shiro likes it. He likes being able to “accidentally” bump shoulders or brush hips. And he knows he’s imagining it, but he could almost swear Matt would do the same back. It’s at least nice to dream.

The soup is almost done by the time Matt emerges from the bathroom, dressed with his hair still dripping. He refuses to do anything besides let it air dry, convinced it’ll end up losing its softness if he’s too rough. 

He grabs the bowl of the last remaining spices that he left by the knobs on the side of the stove, dropping them into the soup, stirring them in. Lance shifts, leaning over precariously - though still clinging to Shiro - as he watches Shiro stir the soup. Shiro lets him watch, ready to catch him at a moment's notice should anything go wrong. After just a minute, he moves back, situating himself more securely in Shiro’s arms.

That’s when he starts to feel his arm growing sore after holding Lance the entire time he’s been cooking, but he’s too afraid to let him down and have him wind up drinking or eating something he shouldn’t have while Shiro’s back is turned. However, now that Matt is out, he can pass him over.

“Hey, can you come grab him?” asks Shiro, facing the soup. He grabs the freshly chopped cilantro, dumping it into the soup and stirring that in as well.

But Matt doesn’t answer. Shiro turns his body, still stirring. Matt’s eyes track the movement of the arm wrapped around Lance. Looking down to see if there’s something wrong with it - and there’s not - Shiro furrows his brow.

“Matt?” he asks.

Shaking his head as if clearing his thoughts, Matt’s eyes flick up to him, a slight panic in them. “Yeah?” His voice cracks. A tint of red covers his cheekbones, a lighter pink appearing on his neck. He clears his throat, looking away.

“Can you hold Lance?” asks Shiro, eyeing him carefully.

Eyes fixating on the way Matt’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, Matt nods his head, arms reaching out for Lance, still not meeting Shiro’s gaze. Lance reaches out for Matt as well, a bright, toothy smile breaking out across his face. Seems like Lance likes Grumpy Pants a lot more than Grumpy Pants likes him. 

Matt takes Lance from him, holding him against his chest as one arm rests under his butt and his other hand splays across his back. Shiro had never quite realized how large Matt’s hands were until he sees them encompassing Lance’s entire torso. Lance places his palms on Matt’s chest, staring him down.

“What?” asks Matt.

Lance coos at him, reaching an arm forward to grab a strand of his hair. Shiro laughs at the indignant look on Matt’s face, turning back to the soup. It bubbles around the sides. Taking it off the stove top, Shiro places it onto their cooling board. He takes the ladle, picking up the smallest of the three bowls. He fills it halfway before bringing it over to the fridge, placing it inside and returning to the soup. Lance and Matt watch him the entire way. He must have something taped to his back with how intently they’re watching him. He pours the rest of the soup into the other two bowls and a big Tupperware, sealing it shut before taking that to the fridge as well. 

“Alright,” says Shiro, picking up the bowls and carrying them into the small table on the other side of the kitchen, right next to the window. “Bon appétit.”

Matt pulls out the chair they have fitted with a portable high-chair and gently places Lance in it before taking his usual spot on the left side of the table while Shiro takes his on the right. Shiro watches as Matt picks up his spoon, grabbing a small amount of the soup and blowing on it before bringing it to his mouth. Lifting an eyebrow, Shiro waits. Matt’s eyes flutter shut, humming as a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

“Good?” asks Shiro.

“So good,” says Matt, immediately dipping his spoon back into the soup. 

“Good,” says Shiro with a smile.

Next to them, Lance makes a noise. Shiro looks to him; he’s pouting, slumped over in his chair as he watches Matt eat another spoonful of soup. Reaching a handout, Shiro ruffles his hair. “Just a minute little guy, yours has gotta cool first.” 

That’s when Shiro gets his first taste of a true puppy face. Lance bows his head down, looking up at Shiro as he pushes his lip out even more. Tilting his head back slightly, Shiro groans in exasperation. “That’s not fair,” he says to Lance.

“Wait. Did that actually work on you?” asks Matt, waving his spoon around.

Shiro gives Matt a look, slightly incredulous. “Do you not think that’s adorable as hell?”

Matt looks - really  _ looks  _ \- at Lance. Lance’s eyes flick over to him, expression unchanging. Watching Matt, he sees his eyes soften, a fondness gracing his face. With a huff, Matt puts his spoon back in his soup. “I guess,” he mumbles.

Taking it as a win, Shiro dips his spoon into his food, tasting it for the first time. Fuck, Matt really wasn’t kidding when he said it was good.

“By the way,” says Matt. “Who was who in the store? Was Sean there?”

“Yeah,” sighs Shiro. “Sean was the one who made the comment about the nipple cream.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

Shiro laughs out of his nose, taking another spoonful. “Nyma was the one who drove us home.”

“Yeah, got that much.”

“Oh, by the way, what was up with you in the car?”

Matt shrugs, staring intently at his soup. “Just didn’t want to keep waiting in the cold,” he mumbles. He’s lying. Shiro sees it in the way he looks to his left, how he plays with his soup rather than taking another bite, how he refuses to meet Shiro’s gaze, but he doesn’t press. Whatever the reason is, it’ll be a problem for Future Shiro. 

“Ah, okay,” says Shiro, holding out the former, lightening the mood. “Well, Rolo was the one who rang us out.”

“Why do you guys call him ‘Rolo’ again?”

“‘Cause every day he buys Rolos from the vending machine,” says Shiro.

Matt laughs at that. “That’s my kinda guy. Who was it who fell in front of us?”

And of course, Matt says that just as he’s eating more soup. Shiro snorts, hot chicken noodle soup stinging his nose, as he spits it back into his bowl. Matt’s laughing again, a deep, belly laugh that has him throwing his head back. Despite the burning sensation in his nose, he pauses, taking the time to revel in the pure  _ joy _ in Matt’s laugh, committing every part of it to memory. Thankfully, Matt doesn’t notice, laughing so hard he’s wiping at his eyes. It’s adorable as fuck and it takes everything Shiro has in him not to reach across the table and take his hand resting on top of it and taking it in his own.

As his laughter dies down, Shiro smiles, pretending to have done the same himself. Which is exactly when Lance makes another, louder, needier noise, fixing Shiro with the angriest look he has ever seen on a tiny, chubby, big-eyed face of a baby. 

Matt snickers as he stands. “You just got told, by a  _ baby. _ ” 

“Yeah, yeah,” says Shiro, smile still spread across his face. He opens the fridge, grabbing the small bowl of chicken noodle. He also grabs two spoons out of the silverware drawer, a small and bigger one. Tasting the soup with the bigger one and deeming it cool enough, he sets the spoon in the sink and brings the other along with the bowl over to Lance. Placing it on the table, he fills the spoon with soup, careful not to get any of the chunks of vegetable, and brings it up to Lance’s mouth.

Lance happily opens his mouth, clapping his hands together as Shiro carefully places the spoon on his tongue before lifting it up and out of his closing mouth. Lance swallows, giggling happily before opening his mouth for another spoonful.

Shiro feeds Lance until the bowl is completely finished, even feeding him the chunks of vegetable after he and Matt decide they’re soft enough for him to eat. Lance nods off in his high chair as Shiro and Matt finish their food, making light conversation and placing bets on when the snow would start falling. It’s surprising they haven’t gotten any yet considering it’s almost three in the afternoon. They said it was supposed to start around noon, but then again, when has Mother Nature ever followed a man’s schedule?

“Damn, he is  _ out, _ ” comments Matt. After a moment he adds, “Although, in a few minutes, I think I will be too.”

“Same here,” says Shiro, resting his prosthetic hand on his stomach. He finally feels warm after the biting chill of being outside. It’s slowly lulling to sleep. “I call couch.”

“Goddammit,  _ fine. _ ”

Shiro chuckles lowly, eyes closing as he settles himself into the kitchen chair. “You can have it if you want,” he says quietly.

“Nah, I can just take the chair.”

Shiro hums, taking a moment to mentally prepare himself for standing up. This chair is surprisingly comfortable, had it not been wood, he would be happy to just sleep here. Speaking of sleeping here…

Shiro opens his eyes, gaze fixing on Lance, who is slumped over, sleeping peacefully in his high chair. Taking a deep breath, he stands, stretching his arms out high above his head, yawning big and wide. Feeling his shirt slide up his waist, he quickly puts his arms down, pulling at the edges of his shirt. He swoops Lance up in his arms, not rousing him in the slightest, and heads over to the couch. 

He sits on it, holding Lance against his chest, and oh so slowly leans back and back until his shoulders hit the cushions. Relaxing, he places his arms around Lance’s body, securing him against him, making sure he won’t roll off.

Hearing Matt shuffling to his right, Shiro tilts his head. Matt is laying his head down on a pillow resting on the arm of the chair, body curled up in it. It doesn’t look very comfortable, but Matt lets out a contented sigh. 

It’s not long before he hears Matt’s breathing even out, face calm and serene, body completely lax. He wishes he could be closer, see his face from only inches away rather than feet. He wishes he could wrap his arm around his shoulders, bury his nose into those soft yet unruly locks. He wishes he could feel the warm, comfortable heat of his body pressed against his own as they settled down to sleep. He wishes he could press a kiss to his temple, whisper “ _ goodnight _ ” and fall asleep with his nose full of hair and wake up to a tickling itch in his nose. God, he could almost feel it now.

But he can’t have that. They aren’t together - not romantically at least. Just the thought makes his heart clench painfully in his chest. He doesn’t even have the right to do any of those things, but  _ fuck, _ does he wish he did. He can remember not even being able to so much as smile before he met Matt, and now he can’t ever stop laughing and smiling. 

Matt had brought him out of his stupor after he lost his arm; he made him see life for what it was again: a gift - one that he shouldn’t, couldn’t just waste away. Yet he was still there for every bad day, for every day where the pains came back and the nightmares haunted him, never treating Shiro as broken like so many did before him. No, he stood by Shiro’s side, offering assistance, but never a solution. He did so much for Shiro yet never expected anything.

And in that time, Shiro fell. He fell for his easy laugh and sassy attitude. For his desire to always learn and learn, understanding that he’ll never be done. For his ability to care so much for his friends, always extending a helping hand. For his little quips and almost unbelievable stories. For his gentle observations and harsh truths. 

But to Matt, Shiro was just a friend, and Shiro respected that. In the beginning, he tried to reign his emotions in, keep them bottled up and think of Matt the same way, but then piece by piece he would learn more about him. His feelings grew too far out of control before he could ever even attempt to reign them in again. So now, he watches from afar, hoping that maybe one day something will change. That he might get his chance to feel those thin arms wrapped around him as they dance, or feel lips pressing against his own while they laugh at the stupidest thing Matt can find on Twitter.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he gently lifts Lance’s hand from where it rests on his chest. He pokes his palm with his finger, just like he had last night, and smiles shakily as tiny fingers wrap around his. And as he drifts off, heart tied in a knot in his chest, he listens to the deep, steady breathing just feet away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and criticisms are _love_
> 
> come scream with me about this au on [my tumblr! ](https://shiros-eyes.tumblr.com) i love talking with people ^ ^

**Author's Note:**

> comments and criticisms are love!
> 
> feel free to come talk with me on my [tumblr](http://shiros-eyes.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/thememewrites)


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